No More Learning

Let who will, or who can, die away with pleasure at the
sight of an eunuch quavering the _role_ of Caesar, or of Cato, and
strutting awkwardly upon the stage. For my part I have long since
renounced those paltry entertainments which constitute the glory of
modern Italy, and are purchased so dearly by sovereigns. "

Candide disputed the point a little, but with discretion. Martin was
entirely of the Senator's opinion.

They sat down to table, and after an excellent dinner they went into the
library. Candide, seeing a Homer magnificently bound, commended the
virtuoso on his good taste.

"There," said he, "is a book that was once the delight of the great
Pangloss, the best philosopher in Germany. "

"It is not mine," answered Pococurante coolly. "They used at one time to
make me believe that I took a pleasure in reading him. But that
continual repetition of battles, so extremely like one another; those
gods that are always active without doing anything decisive; that Helen
who is the cause of the war, and who yet scarcely appears in the piece;
that Troy, so long besieged without being taken; all these together
caused me great weariness. I have sometimes asked learned men whether
they were not as weary as I of that work. Those who were sincere have
owned to me that the poem made them fall asleep; yet it was necessary to
have it in their library as a monument of antiquity, or like those rusty
medals which are no longer of use in commerce. "

"But your Excellency does not think thus of Virgil? " said Candide.

"I grant," said the Senator, "that the second, fourth, and sixth books
of his _AEneid_ are excellent, but as for his pious AEneas, his strong
Cloanthus, his friend Achates, his little Ascanius, his silly King
Latinus, his bourgeois Amata, his insipid Lavinia, I think there can be
nothing more flat and disagreeable. I prefer Tasso a good deal, or even
the soporific tales of Ariosto. "

"May I presume to ask you, sir," said Candide, "whether you do not
receive a great deal of pleasure from reading Horace? "

"There are maxims in this writer," answered Pococurante, "from which a
man of the world may reap great benefit, and being written in energetic
verse they are more easily impressed upon the memory. But I care little
for his journey to Brundusium, and his account of a bad dinner, or of
his low quarrel between one Rupilius whose words he says were full of
poisonous filth, and another whose language was imbued with vinegar. I
have read with much distaste his indelicate verses against old women and
witches; nor do I see any merit in telling his friend Maecenas that if he
will but rank him in the choir of lyric poets, his lofty head shall
touch the stars. Fools admire everything in an author of reputation. For
my part, I read only to please myself. I like only that which serves my
purpose. "

Candide, having been educated never to judge for himself, was much
surprised at what he heard. Martin found there was a good deal of reason
in Pococurante's remarks.

"Oh! here is Cicero," said Candide. "Here is the great man whom I fancy
you are never tired of reading. "

"I never read him," replied the Venetian. "What is it to me whether he
pleads for Rabirius or Cluentius? I try causes enough myself; his
philosophical works seem to me better, but when I found that he doubted
of everything, I concluded that I knew as much as he, and that I had no
need of a guide to learn ignorance. "

"Ha! here are four-score volumes of the Academy of Sciences," cried
Martin. "Perhaps there is something valuable in this collection. "

"There might be," said Pococurante, "if only one of those rakers of
rubbish had shown how to make pins; but in all these volumes there is
nothing but chimerical systems, and not a single useful thing. "

"And what dramatic works I see here," said Candide, "in Italian,
Spanish, and French. "

"Yes," replied the Senator, "there are three thousand, and not three
dozen of them good for anything. As to those collections of sermons,
which altogether are not worth a single page of Seneca, and those huge
volumes of theology, you may well imagine that neither I nor any one
else ever opens them. "

Martin saw some shelves filled with English books.

"I have a notion," said he, "that a Republican must be greatly pleased
with most of these books, which are written with a spirit of freedom. "

"Yes," answered Pococurante, "it is noble to write as one thinks; this
is the privilege of humanity. In all our Italy we write only what we do
not think; those who inhabit the country of the Caesars and the
Antoninuses dare not acquire a single idea without the permission of a
Dominican friar. I should be pleased with the liberty which inspires the
English genius if passion and party spirit did not corrupt all that is
estimable in this precious liberty. "

Candide, observing a Milton, asked whether he did not look upon this
author as a great man.

"Who? " said Pococurante, "that barbarian, who writes a long commentary
in ten books of harsh verse on the first chapter of Genesis; that coarse
imitator of the Greeks, who disfigures the Creation, and who, while
Moses represents the Eternal producing the world by a word, makes the
Messiah take a great pair of compasses from the armoury of heaven to
circumscribe His work? How can I have any esteem for a writer who has
spoiled Tasso's hell and the devil, who transforms Lucifer sometimes
into a toad and other times into a pigmy, who makes him repeat the same
things a hundred times, who makes him dispute on theology, who, by a
serious imitation of Ariosto's comic invention of firearms, represents
the devils cannonading in heaven? Neither I nor any man in Italy could
take pleasure in those melancholy extravagances; and the marriage of Sin
and Death, and the snakes brought forth by Sin, are enough to turn the
stomach of any one with the least taste, [and his long description of a
pest-house is good only for a grave-digger]. This obscure, whimsical,
and disagreeable poem was despised upon its first publication, and I
only treat it now as it was treated in its own country by
contemporaries. For the matter of that I say what I think, and I care
very little whether others think as I do. "

Candide was grieved at this speech, for he had a respect for Homer and
was fond of Milton.

"Alas! " said he softly to Martin, "I am afraid that this man holds our
German poets in very great contempt. "

"There would not be much harm in that," said Martin.

"Oh! what a superior man," said Candide below his breath. "What a great
genius is this Pococurante! Nothing can please him. "

After their survey of the library they went down into the garden, where
Candide praised its several beauties.

"I know of nothing in so bad a taste," said the master. "All you see
here is merely trifling. After to-morrow I will have it planted with a
nobler design. "

"Well," said Candide to Martin when they had taken their leave, "you
will agree that this is the happiest of mortals, for he is above
everything he possesses. "

"But do you not see," answered Martin, "that he is disgusted with all he
possesses? Plato observed a long while ago that those stomachs are not
the best that reject all sorts of food. "

"But is there not a pleasure," said Candide, "in criticising
everything, in pointing out faults where others see nothing but
beauties? "

"That is to say," replied Martin, "that there is some pleasure in having
no pleasure. "

"Well, well," said Candide, "I find that I shall be the only happy man
when I am blessed with the sight of my dear Cunegonde. "

"It is always well to hope," said Martin.

However, the days and the weeks passed. Cacambo did not come, and
Candide was so overwhelmed with grief that he did not even reflect that
Paquette and Friar Giroflee did not return to thank him.




XXVI

OF A SUPPER WHICH CANDIDE AND MARTIN TOOK WITH SIX STRANGERS, AND WHO
THEY WERE. [34]


One evening that Candide and Martin were going to sit down to supper
with some foreigners who lodged in the same inn, a man whose complexion
was as black as soot, came behind Candide, and taking him by the arm,
said:

"Get yourself ready to go along with us; do not fail. "

Upon this he turned round and saw--Cacambo! Nothing but the sight of
Cunegonde could have astonished and delighted him more. He was on the
point of going mad with joy. He embraced his dear friend.

"Cunegonde is here, without doubt; where is she? Take me to her that I
may die of joy in her company. "

"Cunegonde is not here," said Cacambo, "she is at Constantinople. "

"Oh, heavens! at Constantinople! But were she in China I would fly
thither; let us be off. "

"We shall set out after supper," replied Cacambo. "I can tell you
nothing more; I am a slave, my master awaits me, I must serve him at
table; speak not a word, eat, and then get ready. "

Candide, distracted between joy and grief, delighted at seeing his
faithful agent again, astonished at finding him a slave, filled with the
fresh hope of recovering his mistress, his heart palpitating, his
understanding confused, sat down to table with Martin, who saw all these
scenes quite unconcerned, and with six strangers who had come to spend
the Carnival at Venice.

Cacambo waited at table upon one of the strangers; towards the end of
the entertainment he drew near his master, and whispered in his ear:

"Sire, your Majesty may start when you please, the vessel is ready. "

On saying these words he went out. The company in great surprise looked
at one another without speaking a word, when another domestic approached
his master and said to him:

"Sire, your Majesty's chaise is at Padua, and the boat is ready. "

The master gave a nod and the servant went away. The company all stared
at one another again, and their surprise redoubled. A third valet came
up to a third stranger, saying:

"Sire, believe me, your Majesty ought not to stay here any longer. I am
going to get everything ready. "

And immediately he disappeared. Candide and Martin did not doubt that
this was a masquerade of the Carnival. Then a fourth domestic said to a
fourth master:

"Your Majesty may depart when you please. "

Saying this he went away like the rest. The fifth valet said the same
thing to the fifth master. But the sixth valet spoke differently to the
sixth stranger, who sat near Candide. He said to him:

"Faith, Sire, they will no longer give credit to your Majesty nor to me,
and we may perhaps both of us be put in jail this very night. Therefore
I will take care of myself. Adieu. "

The servants being all gone, the six strangers, with Candide and Martin,
remained in a profound silence. At length Candide broke it.

"Gentlemen," said he, "this is a very good joke indeed, but why should
you all be kings? For me I own that neither Martin nor I is a king. "

Cacambo's master then gravely answered in Italian:

"I am not at all joking. My name is Achmet III. I was Grand Sultan many
years. I dethroned my brother; my nephew dethroned me, my viziers were
beheaded, and I am condemned to end my days in the old Seraglio. My
nephew, the great Sultan Mahmoud, permits me to travel sometimes for my
health, and I am come to spend the Carnival at Venice. "

A young man who sat next to Achmet, spoke then as follows:

"My name is Ivan. I was once Emperor of all the Russias, but was
dethroned in my cradle. My parents were confined in prison and I was
educated there; yet I am sometimes allowed to travel in company with
persons who act as guards; and I am come to spend the Carnival at
Venice. "

The third said:

"I am Charles Edward, King of England; my father has resigned all his
legal rights to me. I have fought in defence of them; and above eight
hundred of my adherents have been hanged, drawn, and quartered. I have
been confined in prison; I am going to Rome, to pay a visit to the King,
my father, who was dethroned as well as myself and my grandfather, and I
am come to spend the Carnival at Venice. "

The fourth spoke thus in his turn:

"I am the King of Poland; the fortune of war has stripped me of my
hereditary dominions; my father underwent the same vicissitudes; I
resign myself to Providence in the same manner as Sultan Achmet, the
Emperor Ivan, and King Charles Edward, whom God long preserve; and I am
come to the Carnival at Venice. "

The fifth said:

"I am King of Poland also; I have been twice dethroned; but Providence
has given me another country, where I have done more good than all the
Sarmatian kings were ever capable of doing on the banks of the Vistula;
I resign myself likewise to Providence, and am come to pass the Carnival
at Venice. "

It was now the sixth monarch's turn to speak:

"Gentlemen," said he, "I am not so great a prince as any of you;
however, I am a king. I am Theodore, elected King of Corsica; I had the
title of Majesty, and now I am scarcely treated as a gentleman. I have
coined money, and now am not worth a farthing; I have had two
secretaries of state, and now I have scarce a valet; I have seen myself
on a throne, and I have seen myself upon straw in a common jail in
London. I am afraid that I shall meet with the same treatment here
though, like your majesties, I am come to see the Carnival at Venice. "

The other five kings listened to this speech with generous compassion.
Each of them gave twenty sequins to King Theodore to buy him clothes and
linen; and Candide made him a present of a diamond worth two thousand
sequins.

"Who can this private person be," said the five kings to one another,
"who is able to give, and really has given, a hundred times as much as
any of us? "

Just as they rose from table, in came four Serene Highnesses, who had
also been stripped of their territories by the fortune of war, and were
come to spend the Carnival at Venice. But Candide paid no regard to
these newcomers, his thoughts were entirely employed on his voyage to
Constantinople, in search of his beloved Cunegonde.




XXVII

CANDIDE'S VOYAGE TO CONSTANTINOPLE.


The faithful Cacambo had already prevailed upon the Turkish skipper, who
was to conduct the Sultan Achmet to Constantinople, to receive Candide
and Martin on his ship. They both embarked after having made their
obeisance to his miserable Highness.

"You see," said Candide to Martin on the way, "we supped with six
dethroned kings, and of those six there was one to whom I gave charity.
Perhaps there are many other princes yet more unfortunate. For my part,
I have only lost a hundred sheep; and now I am flying into Cunegonde's
arms. My dear Martin, yet once more Pangloss was right: all is for the
best. "

"I wish it," answered Martin.

"But," said Candide, "it was a very strange adventure we met with at
Venice. It has never before been seen or heard that six dethroned kings
have supped together at a public inn. "

"It is not more extraordinary," said Martin, "than most of the things
that have happened to us. It is a very common thing for kings to be
dethroned; and as for the honour we have had of supping in their
company, it is a trifle not worth our attention. "

No sooner had Candide got on board the vessel than he flew to his old
valet and friend Cacambo, and tenderly embraced him.

"Well," said he, "what news of Cunegonde? Is she still a prodigy of
beauty? Does she love me still? How is she? Thou hast doubtless bought
her a palace at Constantinople? "

"My dear master," answered Cacambo, "Cunegonde washes dishes on the
banks of the Propontis, in the service of a prince, who has very few
dishes to wash; she is a slave in the family of an ancient sovereign
named Ragotsky,[35] to whom the Grand Turk allows three crowns a day in
his exile. But what is worse still is, that she has lost her beauty and
has become horribly ugly. "

"Well, handsome or ugly," replied Candide, "I am a man of honour, and it
is my duty to love her still. But how came she to be reduced to so
abject a state with the five or six millions that you took to her? "

"Ah! " said Cacambo, "was I not to give two millions to Senor Don
Fernando d'Ibaraa, y Figueora, y Mascarenes, y Lampourdos, y Souza,
Governor of Buenos Ayres, for permitting Miss Cunegonde to come away?
And did not a corsair bravely rob us of all the rest? Did not this
corsair carry us to Cape Matapan, to Milo, to Nicaria, to Samos, to
Petra, to the Dardanelles, to Marmora, to Scutari? Cunegonde and the old
woman serve the prince I now mentioned to you, and I am slave to the
dethroned Sultan. "

"What a series of shocking calamities! " cried Candide. "But after all, I
have some diamonds left; and I may easily pay Cunegonde's ransom. Yet it
is a pity that she is grown so ugly. "

Then, turning towards Martin: "Who do you think," said he, "is most to
be pitied--the Sultan Achmet, the Emperor Ivan, King Charles Edward, or
I? "

"How should I know! " answered Martin. "I must see into your hearts to be
able to tell. "

"Ah! " said Candide, "if Pangloss were here, he could tell. "

"I know not," said Martin, "in what sort of scales your Pangloss would
weigh the misfortunes of mankind and set a just estimate on their
sorrows. All that I can presume to say is, that there are millions of
people upon earth who have a hundred times more to complain of than King
Charles Edward, the Emperor Ivan, or the Sultan Achmet. "

"That may well be," said Candide.

In a few days they reached the Bosphorus, and Candide began by paying a
very high ransom for Cacambo. Then without losing time, he and his
companions went on board a galley, in order to search on the banks of
the Propontis for his Cunegonde, however ugly she might have become.

Among the crew there were two slaves who rowed very badly, and to whose
bare shoulders the Levantine captain would now and then apply blows from
a bull's pizzle. Candide, from a natural impulse, looked at these two
slaves more attentively than at the other oarsmen, and approached them
with pity. Their features though greatly disfigured, had a slight
resemblance to those of Pangloss and the unhappy Jesuit and Westphalian
Baron, brother to Miss Cunegonde. This moved and saddened him. He looked
at them still more attentively.

"Indeed," said he to Cacambo, "if I had not seen Master Pangloss hanged,
and if I had not had the misfortune to kill the Baron, I should think it
was they that were rowing. "

At the names of the Baron and of Pangloss, the two galley-slaves uttered
a loud cry, held fast by the seat, and let drop their oars. The captain
ran up to them and redoubled his blows with the bull's pizzle.

"Stop! stop! sir," cried Candide. "I will give you what money you
please. "

"What! it is Candide! " said one of the slaves.

"What! it is Candide! " said the other.

"Do I dream? " cried Candide; "am I awake? or am I on board a galley? Is
this the Baron whom I killed? Is this Master Pangloss whom I saw
hanged? "

"It is we! it is we! " answered they.

"Well! is this the great philosopher? " said Martin.

"Ah!
captain," said Candide, "what ransom will you take for Monsieur de
Thunder-ten-Tronckh, one of the first barons of the empire, and for
Monsieur Pangloss, the profoundest metaphysician in Germany? "

"Dog of a Christian," answered the Levantine captain, "since these two
dogs of Christian slaves are barons and metaphysicians, which I doubt
not are high dignities in their country, you shall give me fifty
thousand sequins. "

"You shall have them, sir. Carry me back at once to Constantinople, and
you shall receive the money directly. But no; carry me first to Miss
Cunegonde. "

Upon the first proposal made by Candide, however, the Levantine captain
had already tacked about, and made the crew ply their oars quicker than
a bird cleaves the air.

Candide embraced the Baron and Pangloss a hundred times.

"And how happened it, my dear Baron, that I did not kill you? And, my
dear Pangloss, how came you to life again after being hanged? And why
are you both in a Turkish galley? "

"And it is true that my dear sister is in this country? " said the Baron.

"Yes," answered Cacambo.

"Then I behold, once more, my dear Candide," cried Pangloss.

Candide presented Martin and Cacambo to them; they embraced each other,
and all spoke at once. The galley flew; they were already in the port.
Instantly Candide sent for a Jew, to whom he sold for fifty thousand
sequins a diamond worth a hundred thousand, though the fellow swore to
him by Abraham that he could give him no more. He immediately paid the
ransom for the Baron and Pangloss. The latter threw himself at the feet
of his deliverer, and bathed them with his tears; the former thanked him
with a nod, and promised to return him the money on the first
opportunity.

"But is it indeed possible that my sister can be in Turkey? " said he.

"Nothing is more possible," said Cacambo, "since she scours the dishes
in the service of a Transylvanian prince. "

Candide sent directly for two Jews and sold them some more diamonds, and
then they all set out together in another galley to deliver Cunegonde
from slavery.




XXVIII

WHAT HAPPENED TO CANDIDE, CUNEGONDE, PANGLOSS, MARTIN, ETC.


"I ask your pardon once more," said Candide to the Baron, "your pardon,
reverend father, for having run you through the body. "

"Say no more about it," answered the Baron. "I was a little too hasty, I
own, but since you wish to know by what fatality I came to be a
galley-slave I will inform you. After I had been cured by the surgeon of
the college of the wound you gave me, I was attacked and carried off by
a party of Spanish troops, who confined me in prison at Buenos Ayres at
the very time my sister was setting out thence. I asked leave to return
to Rome to the General of my Order. I was appointed chaplain to the
French Ambassador at Constantinople. I had not been eight days in this
employment when one evening I met with a young Ichoglan, who was a very
handsome fellow. The weather was warm. The young man wanted to bathe,
and I took this opportunity of bathing also. I did not know that it was
a capital crime for a Christian to be found naked with a young
Mussulman. A cadi ordered me a hundred blows on the soles of the feet,
and condemned me to the galleys. I do not think there ever was a greater
act of injustice. But I should be glad to know how my sister came to be
scullion to a Transylvanian prince who has taken shelter among the
Turks. "

"But you, my dear Pangloss," said Candide, "how can it be that I behold
you again? "

"It is true," said Pangloss, "that you saw me hanged. I should have been
burnt, but you may remember it rained exceedingly hard when they were
going to roast me; the storm was so violent that they despaired of
lighting the fire, so I was hanged because they could do no better. A
surgeon purchased my body, carried me home, and dissected me. He began
with making a crucial incision on me from the navel to the clavicula.
One could not have been worse hanged than I was. The executioner of the
Holy Inquisition was a sub-deacon, and knew how to burn people
marvellously well, but he was not accustomed to hanging. The cord was
wet and did not slip properly, and besides it was badly tied; in short,
I still drew my breath, when the crucial incision made me give such a
frightful scream that my surgeon fell flat upon his back, and imagining
that he had been dissecting the devil he ran away, dying with fear, and
fell down the staircase in his flight. His wife, hearing the noise,
flew from the next room. She saw me stretched out upon the table with my
crucial incision. She was seized with yet greater fear than her husband,
fled, and tumbled over him. When they came to themselves a little, I
heard the wife say to her husband: 'My dear, how could you take it into
your head to dissect a heretic? Do you not know that these people always
have the devil in their bodies? I will go and fetch a priest this minute
to exorcise him. ' At this proposal I shuddered, and mustering up what
little courage I had still remaining I cried out aloud, 'Have mercy on
me! ' At length the Portuguese barber plucked up his spirits. He sewed up
my wounds; his wife even nursed me. I was upon my legs at the end of
fifteen days. The barber found me a place as lackey to a knight of Malta
who was going to Venice, but finding that my master had no money to pay
me my wages I entered the service of a Venetian merchant, and went with
him to Constantinople. One day I took it into my head to step into a
mosque, where I saw an old Iman and a very pretty young devotee who was
saying her paternosters. Her bosom was uncovered, and between her
breasts she had a beautiful bouquet of tulips, roses, anemones,
ranunculus, hyacinths, and auriculas. She dropped her bouquet; I picked
it up, and presented it to her with a profound reverence. I was so long
in delivering it that the Iman began to get angry, and seeing that I was
a Christian he called out for help. They carried me before the cadi, who
ordered me a hundred lashes on the soles of the feet and sent me to the
galleys. I was chained to the very same galley and the same bench as the
young Baron. On board this galley there were four young men from
Marseilles, five Neapolitan priests, and two monks from Corfu, who told
us similar adventures happened daily. The Baron maintained that he had
suffered greater injustice than I, and I insisted that it was far more
innocent to take up a bouquet and place it again on a woman's bosom than
to be found stark naked with an Ichoglan. We were continually disputing,
and received twenty lashes with a bull's pizzle when the concatenation
of universal events brought you to our galley, and you were good enough
to ransom us. "

"Well, my dear Pangloss," said Candide to him, "when you had been
hanged, dissected, whipped, and were tugging at the oar, did you always
think that everything happens for the best? "

"I am still of my first opinion," answered Pangloss, "for I am a
philosopher and I cannot retract, especially as Leibnitz could never be
wrong; and besides, the pre-established harmony is the finest thing in
the world, and so is his _plenum_ and _materia subtilis_. "




XXIX

HOW CANDIDE FOUND CUNEGONDE AND THE OLD WOMAN AGAIN.


While Candide, the Baron, Pangloss, Martin, and Cacambo were relating
their several adventures, were reasoning on the contingent or
non-contingent events of the universe, disputing on effects and causes,
on moral and physical evil, on liberty and necessity, and on the
consolations a slave may feel even on a Turkish galley, they arrived at
the house of the Transylvanian prince on the banks of the Propontis. The
first objects which met their sight were Cunegonde and the old woman
hanging towels out to dry.

The Baron paled at this sight. The tender, loving Candide, seeing his
beautiful Cunegonde embrowned, with blood-shot eyes, withered neck,
wrinkled cheeks, and rough, red arms, recoiled three paces, seized with
horror, and then advanced out of good manners. She embraced Candide and
her brother; they embraced the old woman, and Candide ransomed them
both.

There was a small farm in the neighbourhood which the old woman
proposed to Candide to make a shift with till the company could be
provided for in a better manner. Cunegonde did not know she had grown
ugly, for nobody had told her of it; and she reminded Candide of his
promise in so positive a tone that the good man durst not refuse her. He
therefore intimated to the Baron that he intended marrying his sister.

"I will not suffer," said the Baron, "such meanness on her part, and
such insolence on yours; I will never be reproached with this scandalous
thing; my sister's children would never be able to enter the church in
Germany. No; my sister shall only marry a baron of the empire. "

Cunegonde flung herself at his feet, and bathed them with her tears;
still he was inflexible.

"Thou foolish fellow," said Candide; "I have delivered thee out of the
galleys, I have paid thy ransom, and thy sister's also; she was a
scullion, and is very ugly, yet I am so condescending as to marry her;
and dost thou pretend to oppose the match? I should kill thee again,
were I only to consult my anger. "

"Thou mayest kill me again," said the Baron, "but thou shalt not marry
my sister, at least whilst I am living. "




XXX

THE CONCLUSION.


At the bottom of his heart Candide had no wish to marry Cunegonde. But
the extreme impertinence of the Baron determined him to conclude the
match, and Cunegonde pressed him so strongly that he could not go from
his word. He consulted Pangloss, Martin, and the faithful Cacambo.
Pangloss drew up an excellent memorial, wherein he proved that the Baron
had no right over his sister, and that according to all the laws of the
empire, she might marry Candide with her left hand. Martin was for
throwing the Baron into the sea; Cacambo decided that it would be better
to deliver him up again to the captain of the galley, after which they
thought to send him back to the General Father of the Order at Rome by
the first ship. This advice was well received, the old woman approved
it; they said not a word to his sister; the thing was executed for a
little money, and they had the double pleasure of entrapping a Jesuit,
and punishing the pride of a German baron.

It is natural to imagine that after so many disasters Candide married,
and living with the philosopher Pangloss, the philosopher Martin, the
prudent Cacambo, and the old woman, having besides brought so many
diamonds from the country of the ancient Incas, must have led a very
happy life. But he was so much imposed upon by the Jews that he had
nothing left except his small farm; his wife became uglier every day,
more peevish and unsupportable; the old woman was infirm and even more
fretful than Cunegonde. Cacambo, who worked in the garden, and took
vegetables for sale to Constantinople, was fatigued with hard work, and
cursed his destiny. Pangloss was in despair at not shining in some
German university. For Martin, he was firmly persuaded that he would be
as badly off elsewhere, and therefore bore things patiently. Candide,
Martin, and Pangloss sometimes disputed about morals and metaphysics.
They often saw passing under the windows of their farm boats full of
Effendis, Pashas, and Cadis, who were going into banishment to Lemnos,
Mitylene, or Erzeroum. And they saw other Cadis, Pashas, and Effendis
coming to supply the place of the exiles, and afterwards exiled in their
turn. They saw heads decently impaled for presentation to the Sublime
Porte. Such spectacles as these increased the number of their
dissertations; and when they did not dispute time hung so heavily upon
their hands, that one day the old woman ventured to say to them:

"I want to know which is worse, to be ravished a hundred times by negro
pirates, to have a buttock cut off, to run the gauntlet among the
Bulgarians, to be whipped and hanged at an _auto-da-fe_, to be
dissected, to row in the galleys--in short, to go through all the
miseries we have undergone, or to stay here and have nothing to do? "

"It is a great question," said Candide.

This discourse gave rise to new reflections, and Martin especially
concluded that man was born to live either in a state of distracting
inquietude or of lethargic disgust. Candide did not quite agree to that,
but he affirmed nothing. Pangloss owned that he had always suffered
horribly, but as he had once asserted that everything went wonderfully
well, he asserted it still, though he no longer believed it.

What helped to confirm Martin in his detestable principles, to stagger
Candide more than ever, and to puzzle Pangloss, was that one day they
saw Paquette and Friar Giroflee land at the farm in extreme misery. They
had soon squandered their three thousand piastres, parted, were
reconciled, quarrelled again, were thrown into gaol, had escaped, and
Friar Giroflee had at length become Turk. Paquette continued her trade
wherever she went, but made nothing of it.

"I foresaw," said Martin to Candide, "that your presents would soon be
dissipated, and only make them the more miserable. You have rolled in
millions of money, you and Cacambo; and yet you are not happier than
Friar Giroflee and Paquette. "

"Ha! " said Pangloss to Paquette, "Providence has then brought you
amongst us again, my poor child! Do you know that you cost me the tip of
my nose, an eye, and an ear, as you may see? What a world is this! "

And now this new adventure set them philosophising more than ever.

In the neighbourhood there lived a very famous Dervish who was esteemed
the best philosopher in all Turkey, and they went to consult him.
Pangloss was the speaker.

"Master," said he, "we come to beg you to tell why so strange an animal
as man was made. "

"With what meddlest thou? " said the Dervish; "is it thy business? "

"But, reverend father," said Candide, "there is horrible evil in this
world. "

"What signifies it," said the Dervish, "whether there be evil or good?
When his highness sends a ship to Egypt, does he trouble his head
whether the mice on board are at their ease or not? "

"What, then, must we do? " said Pangloss.

"Hold your tongue," answered the Dervish.

"I was in hopes," said Pangloss, "that I should reason with you a little
about causes and effects, about the best of possible worlds, the origin
of evil, the nature of the soul, and the pre-established harmony. "

At these words, the Dervish shut the door in their faces.

During this conversation, the news was spread that two Viziers and the
Mufti had been strangled at Constantinople, and that several of their
friends had been impaled. This catastrophe made a great noise for some
hours. Pangloss, Candide, and Martin, returning to the little farm, saw
a good old man taking the fresh air at his door under an orange bower.
Pangloss, who was as inquisitive as he was argumentative, asked the old
man what was the name of the strangled Mufti.

"I do not know," answered the worthy man, "and I have not known the name
of any Mufti, nor of any Vizier. I am entirely ignorant of the event you
mention; I presume in general that they who meddle with the
administration of public affairs die sometimes miserably, and that they
deserve it; but I never trouble my head about what is transacting at
Constantinople; I content myself with sending there for sale the fruits
of the garden which I cultivate. "

Having said these words, he invited the strangers into his house; his
two sons and two daughters presented them with several sorts of sherbet,
which they made themselves, with Kaimak enriched with the candied-peel
of citrons, with oranges, lemons, pine-apples, pistachio-nuts, and Mocha
coffee unadulterated with the bad coffee of Batavia or the American
islands. After which the two daughters of the honest Mussulman perfumed
the strangers' beards.

"You must have a vast and magnificent estate," said Candide to the Turk.

"I have only twenty acres," replied the old man; "I and my children
cultivate them; our labour preserves us from three great
evils--weariness, vice, and want. "

Candide, on his way home, made profound reflections on the old man's
conversation.

"This honest Turk," said he to Pangloss and Martin, "seems to be in a
situation far preferable to that of the six kings with whom we had the
honour of supping. "

"Grandeur," said Pangloss, "is extremely dangerous according to the
testimony of philosophers. For, in short, Eglon, King of Moab, was
assassinated by Ehud; Absalom was hung by his hair, and pierced with
three darts; King Nadab, the son of Jeroboam, was killed by Baasa; King
Ela by Zimri; Ahaziah by Jehu; Athaliah by Jehoiada; the Kings
Jehoiakim, Jeconiah, and Zedekiah, were led into captivity. You know how
perished Croesus, Astyages, Darius, Dionysius of Syracuse, Pyrrhus,
Perseus, Hannibal, Jugurtha, Ariovistus, Caesar, Pompey, Nero, Otho,
Vitellius, Domitian, Richard II. of England, Edward II. , Henry VI. ,
Richard III. , Mary Stuart, Charles I. , the three Henrys of France, the
Emperor Henry IV. ! You know----"

"I know also," said Candide, "that we must cultivate our garden. "

"You are right," said Pangloss, "for when man was first placed in the
Garden of Eden, he was put there _ut operaretur eum_, that he might
cultivate it; which shows that man was not born to be idle. "

"Let us work," said Martin, "without disputing; it is the only way to
render life tolerable. "

The whole little society entered into this laudable design, according to
their different abilities. Their little plot of land produced plentiful
crops. Cunegonde was, indeed, very ugly, but she became an excellent
pastry cook; Paquette worked at embroidery; the old woman looked after
the linen. They were all, not excepting Friar Giroflee, of some service
or other; for he made a good joiner, and became a very honest man.

Pangloss sometimes said to Candide:

"There is a concatenation of events in this best of all possible worlds:
for if you had not been kicked out of a magnificent castle for love of
Miss Cunegonde: if you had not been put into the Inquisition: if you had
not walked over America: if you had not stabbed the Baron: if you had
not lost all your sheep from the fine country of El Dorado: you would
not be here eating preserved citrons and pistachio-nuts. "

"All that is very well," answered Candide, "but let us cultivate our
garden. "




FOOTNOTES:

[1] P. 2. The name Pangloss is derived from two Greek words signifying
"all" and "language. "

[2] P. 8. The Abares were a tribe of Tartars settled on the shores of
the Danube, who later dwelt in part of Circassia.

[3] P. 15. Venereal disease was said to have been first brought from
Hispaniola, in the West Indies, by some followers of Columbus who were
later employed in the siege of Naples. From this latter circumstance it
was at one time known as the Neapolitan disease.

[4] P. 19. The great earthquake of Lisbon happened on the first of
November, 1755.

[5] P. 20. Such was the aversion of the Japanese to the Christian faith
that they compelled Europeans trading with their islands to trample on
the cross, renounce all marks of Christianity, and swear that it was not
their religion. See chap. xi. of the voyage to Laputa in Swift's
_Gulliver's Travels_.

[6] P. 23. This _auto-da-fe_ actually took place, some months after the
earthquake, on June 20, 1756.

[7] P. 23. The rejection of bacon convicting them, of course, of being
Jews, and therefore fitting victims for an _auto-da-fe_.

[8] P. 24. The _San-benito_ was a kind of loose over-garment painted
with flames, figures of devils, the victim's own portrait, etc. , worn by
persons condemned to death by the Inquisition when going to the stake on
the occasion of an _auto-da-fe_. Those who expressed repentance for
their errors wore a garment of the same kind covered with flames
directed downwards, while that worn by Jews, sorcerers, and renegades
bore a St. Andrew's cross before and behind.

[9] P. 26. "This Notre-Dame is of wood; every year she weeps on the day
of her _fete_, and the people weep also. One day the preacher, seeing a
carpenter with dry eyes, asked him how it was that he did not dissolve
in tears when the Holy Virgin wept. 'Ah, my reverend father,' replied
he, 'it is I who refastened her in her niche yesterday. I drove three
great nails through her behind; it is then she would have wept if she
had been able. '"--Voltaire, _Melanges_.

[10] P. 42. The following posthumous note of Voltaire's was first added
to M. Beuchot's edition of his works issued in 1829; "See the extreme
discretion of the author; there has not been up to the present any Pope
named Urban X. ; he feared to give a bastard to a known Pope. What
circumspection! What delicacy of conscience!